this migrant skin … … …

​this migrant skin.

tin-cans, discarded cartons,

garbage bins,
littered with fragmented shards of myself,
shed, left behind,

amidst by-lanes,
pieces of who i was,

slivers of me,
ever trying to belong,

to be,
so we moult,

social chameleons,
slimy, deceitful,

charming, soulless,
casual, empty emotions,

flung aside here,
bits of that life,

of this,
leaving laughter, pouring tears, down drains hugging boulevards,
strewn with crushed petals.

this migrant skin,

this malleable face,
numberless incomprehensible masks staring back,
a mishmash mosaic,
shadows of yesteryears faces,

worn and torn,
ever straining to flee,
the restlessness growing,

gnawing,
teetering on tightrope,
as year turns to close,

I’ll see if I can find me.

( inspired  by Erich Fried’s “In Hiding” )

automatons … … …

​automatons.

bathed in spicy-cinnamon springs,

flying on cotton-candyfloss wings,
kissing darkest-chocolate lips lush,

all else we gleefully airbrush,
yet we feel not a thing,
numb,
dare i say it,

dumb,
and still,

are we not beings,

of flesh and of bone,
or have we mechanised this too,

merchandising, through and true,
cold, deadened,

numbed & dumbed,
akin to a lump of jagged stone.

dreams fade … … …

​dreams fade

eventually

slithering

into

pale fogginess.

years recycle years

grinding down

shellshocked lives

more

raw

fodder for the beast.

but not hope

because 

hope persists

mercilessly

jabbing

at

the

core

hope twists knives

a

teasing

constant

ache

hope

the very ache

that

assures me

that

i

am

alive

wordlessness … … …

​wordlessness …

shards of everyday life

slice through

cleaving 

flesh

splintering

bone

battering the ramparts

chiselling away

incessantly

endlessly

shaving off pieces

bit by bit

tearing muscle

frying synapses

charring hope

with

only the 

inevitability of endlessness

the tide of desolation

washing in

soaking dreams in diesel

fueling storms that rage within

deep

inside yourself

where there is only you

where all the pain

all the loss

feels

true

that gentler way … … …

​that gentler way …

sometimes in dreams

this world feels a much gentler place

where hunger stalks nights and days no more

where we share this earths gifts

more equally

less greedually

a gentler place

where we’ve bade farewell to war …

sometimes in dreams

i taste the hope

of a gentler world

where songs of joy may be heard each day

a gentler world

where we all

all of us

together

as one

always

always

always

strive to find

that gentler way …

( inspired by Pete Seeger’s “Last Night I had the Strangest Dream” )

http://stopwar.org.uk/music/pete-seeger-last-night-i-had-the-strangest-dream

deciphering silence … … …

​deciphering silence …

you and i

shielded by silence

barred from ourselves

insured against feelings

exiled hearts

building ramparts

a berlin wall

that may fall

so my friend

lay your head

upon my chest

and let my fingers

run through your hair

lulling you gently

to rest

life is far too short anyway

to squander even a day

so rest

my friend

rest

and lay your head

upon my chest

circles … … …

circles, minus edges, unabrasive, free flowing, unhindered, no points of departure, none of the grime of memory,

circles, effortless, untainted by breath, rolling across the spaces between us …